Kenya's hustle culture: How youth juggle jobs to stay afloat

Every morning at 6 a.m., 27-year-old Brian Otieno rides his boda boda through the busy streets of Nairobi, ferrying passengers before heading to his second hustle of selling thrifted clothes on Instagram.

By evening, he is delivering fast food orders for an app-based company.

“I can’t depend on one income,” Brian says, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Life in this city is too expensive. You must have at least two or three things going on.”

Brian is one of thousands of young Kenyans powering what has become known as the hustle culture, a fast-growing lifestyle where survival depends on juggling multiple income streams.

Three years into President William Ruto’s administration, Kenyans continue to feel the pinch of high living costs. Despite campaign promises of a bottom-up economic transformation that would put money in the pockets of ordinary citizens, households are still grappling with rising food prices, high fuel costs, and increased taxation.

Government data shows that inflation has disproportionately affected basic commodities such as maize flour, sugar, and cooking oil, squeezing families already struggling to make ends meet. Youth, in particular, have turned to hustling as formal jobs remain scarce.

The Kenya National Bureau of Statistics estimates that more than 35 per cent of employed youth are engaged in at least one additional hustle outside their main job. Even those in stable employment say they cannot survive without a side income.

For some, hustling is empowering. It has created a generation of entrepreneurs who are resourceful, tech-savvy, and resilient.

At just 22, university student Mary Njeri has mastered the art of multitasking, not by choice, but out of necessity.

 For many young Kenyans like her, survival in Nairobi demands more than just academic focus-it means embracing the grind, balancing books with side hustles to make ends meet.

Coming from a modest background, Mary’s parents can only partially support her. With younger siblings still in school and the cost of living steadily rising, the burden of responsibility has slowly shifted to her. Sometimes, she even chips in to pay her siblings’ school fees.

To stay afloat, Mary juggles two demanding hustles while pursuing her degree. During the day, she hawks thrifted clothes around her campus, knocking on hostel doors with a bag full of dresses, shoes, and hope. At night, and especially on weekends, she transforms into a waitress at a city nightclub.

“The clothes business gives me a little pocket money, but my real income is from waitressing,” Mary shares. “Without it, I wouldn’t be able to stay in school. I even send a bit home when I can.”

But the price of the hustle is steep. Working in a nightclub means exposure to harassment from intoxicated patrons and the stigma attached to nightlife jobs.

 Mary talks about the unwanted advances, the judgmental stares, and the assumptions people make about her character just because of where she works.

“People think if you work in a club, you’re up for anything,” she says. “If you don’t play along, some customers insult you or worse, withhold the tips you really need.”

Sleep-deprived and emotionally drained, Mary often attends morning lectures after only a few hours of rest.

 Fatigue takes a toll on her concentration, and her academic performance is starting to suffer.

“Sometimes I’m too tired to even open my books,” she confesses. “But if I stop hustling, I’ll be sent home for fees. I don’t have the luxury to rest.”

Mary’s story is far from unique; it’s the new normal for thousands of Kenyan university students navigating an unforgiving economy. Hustle culture has taken root among the youth, not as a trend, but as a survival mechanism.

From waitressing and bartending to running small online businesses or doing freelance gigs, young Kenyans are turning to any job that fits around their tight academic schedules.

But these jobs often come with harsh working conditions, social stigma, and the constant risk of burnout.

Take 23-year-old Kelvin Mutua, a third-year engineering student and part-time bouncer at a popular Nairobi club. After his parents lost their income, he had no choice but to fend for himself and help out at home.

“I had to find a way to survive and still send something small to my family,” he says.

His job, however, comes with physical and emotional risks. “I have been caught in fights when customers turn violent. I have gone home with bruises more times than I can count,” he says.

Like Mary, Kelvin also battles exhaustion. “Balancing night shifts with early lectures is tough. Most mornings, I am in class half-asleep. It’s affecting my grades, but I don’t have another option.”

As the cost of tuition and living expenses continues to rise in Kenya, more students are being pushed into the hustle. What used to be part-time work for extra cash has now become a full-time necessity for survival.

This is the face of Kenya’s youth hustle culture-young people forced to grow up too fast, sacrificing sleep, safety, and sometimes even academic dreams just to stay in school and help their families.

Yet, despite the hardships, there’s a quiet resilience in their stories, a generation unwilling to give up, doing whatever it takes to move forward.

Social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram have given rise to influencers who earn from brand promotions while still running small businesses offline, but the downside is burnout.

“Many young people are overworked, stressed, and barely sleeping,” says psychologist Dr Carol Adongo. “Hustle culture normalises struggle, but it is also leading to mental health issues that remain unaddressed.”

The hustle doesn’t only apply to university students only but also to Kenyan’s having white color jobs.

30-year-old accountant Faith Wambui says her accounting salary is not enough to foot all her bills and keep her growing family comfortable, and so she resulted to running a small bakery from her kitchen after office hours.

 “My salary covers rent, but my baking pays for everything else,” she explains. “The dream is to quit employment and do business full-time.”

Such stories are common across urban and rural Kenya, where hustling has become both a coping mechanism and a redefinition of work itself.

Experts say the hustle culture reflects Kenya’s broader social shift. Stable, long-term jobs are rare, and young people are redefining success.

“In the past, a good job was about stability,” says city-based economist James Kinyua. “Today, success is measured by how many income streams you can generate.”

This shift is not lost on the government, which has launched programs such as the Hustler Fund to provide affordable credit for small businesses.

Yet critics argue that the fund’s limited reach and strict repayment terms have done little to shield young people from the hard economic realities of Ruto’s tenure.

With digital platforms expanding, hustling is likely to remain part of Kenya’s economic DNA. From delivery riders to online traders, young Kenyans continue to embody the spirit of improvisation and resilience.

But as Brian parks his boda boda after a long day, he admits it is not easy.

“I’m proud I can pay my bills,” he says, “but sometimes I wonder, is this really living, or just surviving?”

Three years into Ruto’s presidency, that question hangs heavy for millions of Kenyans. The hustle culture may keep families afloat, but it also paints a stark picture of a country where hard work does not always guarantee stability, only survival.